Wish I was Wrong
by PowerOfPens
Summary: Mycroft sometimes wished he was wrong...
1. Assasin' retirement

Mary Watson was dead. John was hugged her tightly. He looked up, face red with emotion.

"You made a vow."

He might as well have shot Sherlock. Mycroft could have hit him, but the damage was done. Sherlock backed out of the room, slowly at first, then he turned to run. Mycroft was supposed to oversee the arrest. But a glance and a nod from the DI showed him that he was of more use to Sherlock. He turned and ran after his little brother.

Mycroft went to the flat first. Sherlock had clearly been here before him and had taken his violin with him. Another quick glace around, he must be at Bart's. Mycroft called his chauffer and was at the hospital in a matter of minutes.

He heard the violin before he saw the man. It was played perfectly, a slow waltzing melody. John and Mary's Waltz if he had to guess. Mycroft didn't need to look for his brother, he already knew where he was. The rooftop.

The tall lean figure of Sherlock Holmes had shed his cote and held the violin to his neck. He swayed back and forth with the melody.

"You were right." Said Sherlock.

"I was right? When?" asked Mycroft, now quite concerned.

He lowered the violin as he finished the song.

"Agents like Mary tend not to reach retirement age, they tend to get retired in a pretty permeant sort of way."

Mycroft had meant to spare his brother pain, instead he seemed to have increased it. He stood there paralysed Sherlock's statement.

"Why are you always bloody RIGHT?" Sherlock screamed as he fell to his knees sobbing. As if in accordance with Sherlock's emotions, it started to rain. Mycroft approached his baby brother and, sitting down, he gathered him in his arms. Mycroft opened his umbrella and held it over them.

"Why, Myc? Why her?"

"I do not know Lock."

"You always know."

"And I often wish I did not." Said the elder, "sometimes, I wish I was wrong."


	2. Six Months

Six months.

He'll only last six months at most. Mycroft's sure of it, he's done the math. He had to keep telling himself that this was the best option for Sherlock. Solitary confinement would be awful for his mental health. At the present moment, a pardon was impossible as it would only be interpreted as sentiment on Mycroft's part, and he couldn't disappear because Mycroft would inevitably get caught. Mycroft would do anything for his brother, but they had both agreed that it would do little to have them both in custody.

Sherlock was high when he got on the plain. Mycroft had seen it instantly, but he had not commented. He didn't want his last memory of his baby brother to be of them arguing. The disapproval must have been visible however, as they had a silent conversation.

 ** _What does it matter now Mycroft? My days are already numbered, why not enjoy them?_**

 ** _Sherlock. I didn't say a word. As you say it hardly matters anymore…_**

 ** _Myc, are you angry?_**

 ** _No Lock. A little disappointed, but not angry._**

 ** _I should have told you, you're the best big brother I could ask for. I love you Myc._**

 ** _If this is my best, then I'm very limited. Lock?_**

 ** _Yes._**

 ** _I'm proud of you, for all this. For becoming a detective, for using your talents for good, and most of all, for shooting Magnussen. He was a monster, Lock, a dragon._**

 ** _I'll miss you._**

 ** _I'll miss you too, brother mine._**

"As this is likely to be the last conversation I'll ever have with John Watson, would you mind if we took a moment?"

 ** _This is for the best._**

"Yes, of coarse."

 ** _"_** ** _Yes, of coarse."_**

As the plane took off, Mycroft could not stop thinking: Six months, Six months, Six months….

He desperately wished that he was wrong.

Then his phone started to ring…


	3. Danger night

Danger night

"No." said Mycroft before hanging up the phone. John had wanted to know if tonight was a danger night. Probably. He knew his brother would have a hard time with this no mater how much he would deny it. Mycroft wasn't sure what his brother's feelings towards Irene Adler were, but he assumed they were not purely negative. He remembered the first time he had found Sherlock in a drug den. He balled his fists, No. He would not let that happen again. He called his driver:

"Jack, please come to Bart's hospital."

"Be there in five, boss!" answered Jack.

Mycroft pondered his brother's conversation.

"No, I mean you're going to find her dead."

"That's her."

"Smoking indoors, isn't there one of those law things."

"Look at them, they all care so much."

"Do you ever think there is something wrong with us?"

There had been a look in his eyes, like a man trying to catch up with his situation. Yes, tonight was definitely a danger night.

He called his brother.

"Mycroft, what do you want?"

 ** _Myc?_**

"Just calling to check in, brother mine."

 ** _How are you doing?_**

"Don't you have agents to do that for you?"

 ** _Don't worry, I'm alright._**

"Some duties, I prefer to accomplish myself."

 ** _I can't stop being worried, lock._**

"Well, knock it off!"

 ** _I Know, night Myc!_**


	4. Unwelcome

Sherlock was finally home after his three year absence. Now there were two issues that were pressing, the impending terrorist attack and John Watson. To be perfectly honest, Mycroft worried more about the latter than the former. Sherlock was so exited to se him again that it had been difficult to get him to say in hospital long enough to stich up his back. He seemed to forget that John was still grieving. Sherlock wouldn't want to talk of anything for Mycroft until he met John. But there was a danger baby brother did not foresee, so duty called the elder.

"You know, it is just possible that you won't be welcome."

The split second of earth shattering doubt was almost physically painful to Mycroft.

 ** _Do you really think so Myc?_**

 ** _It is a possibility that we must consider._**

 ** _What do you think will happen?_**

 ** _The balance of probability states that he will at least a little angry. Be careful Lock._**

 ** _I will._**

"No it isn't."

As Sherlock left, Mycroft tried to believe that everything would be fine. He wished John would be too happy to be mad. He knew he was right, but he wished he was wrong. ****


End file.
